


pretty lies

by jdphoenix



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s03e18 The Singularity, Episode: s03e19 Failed Experiments, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-04 21:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6675514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdphoenix/pseuds/jdphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“One of these days,” he says, gently chiding, “you’re going to attack someone who won’t let you walk away. Not everyone is Grant Ward.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 3x18 The Singularity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this was meant to stand alone but I got a prompt to follow it up and now it's a two-parter.

“Fitz!” Jemma yells the second she makes the hotel room. The door slams shut behind her and she knows she should pause to lock it but- “Mack!” she tries.

She pants for breath. The sprint back to the rendezvous point wasn’t especially difficult as the club’s little more than a block away, but what she left behind her has her heart hammering in her chest still.

“You should be more careful.”

_No._

She whirls and, despite her denial, it is in fact Hive stepping out from the shadow of the door. He opens his arms, giving her an even better view of- of- of _whatever_ he is beneath those fashionable clothes and pretty face.

“One of these days,” he says, gently chiding, “you’re going to attack someone who won’t let you walk away. Not everyone is Grant Ward.”

She remembers her gun and pulls it out with hands that refuse to shake, no matter how her insides roil.

His mouth tips in a grin. “Jemma…”

“ _Stop it_ ,” she demands and hates herself for how it sounds like a sob.

His smile holds and he turns his attention to the rest of the room, examining their hasty set-up without another thought for her gun. “We should go soon, before the others return.” He holds one of his arms away from his body so she can better see the edge of the entry wound again. “I will heal well enough on my own, but faster if I eat.”

She doesn’t want to think about what _that_ means - she can guess well enough from the bodies he’s left behind - and so turns the subject to his less disturbing words. “What do you want with me?” she asks when he would touch the second set of surveillance glasses. Mack had tried to convince her to wear them in case she was separated from Fitz but, as they’re precisely the same as the others, it would have looked rather odd.

He lifts his eyes to her as if she’s only just reminded him of her presence. “Your happiness,” he says. She cringes back at the reminder of his earlier words. “But what we _need_ ,” he continues, coming closer until he’s near enough to cup her face in his broad hands, “is your safety. And-” he glances down at the gun hanging limply at her side- “you’ve proven yourself woefully foolhardy in that regard.”

“What do you care for my safety?” she snaps, proud of herself for the venom in her tone. She could have done with it back in that hallway but she’ll take it now.

He blinks, looking genuinely hurt. “I _died_ so that you could reach the safety of Earth.”

She stiffens at the words, the second reminder tonight that she cost Will his life, but it’s what he says next that has her pulling away entirely.

“And I nearly did dozens of times before that.” His mouth tips in that smile again and this time it’s familiar enough to pull at her heartstrings. “A certain skydiving incident comes to mind.”

She wrenches her head from his grasp to stumble across the room, desperate for distance between them. “Whatever you want from me,” she says viciously, “you were better off pretending to be Will.”

May’s voice is in her head, telling her to keep him in her vision, to shoot him again or at the very least lift the gun - but she doesn’t. What she needs is _space_  and, as the tiny hotel room affords very little, her next best option is to simply look away and close her stinging eyes to him.

The churning in her gut has risen to shake her shoulders so that every breath she takes sounds childish and pathetic. She clutches her stomach with her free hand, wishing he would simply leave and spare her whatever is to come next.

His hands slide over her shoulders, kneading at her tense muscles. “We’re sorry,” he says and sounds to truly mean it. “It was one of Grant Ward’s regrets that he never had the chance to make amends for the things he did to you when last you met.”

That’s a lie.

She _knows_ it’s a lie and that he is isn’t Ward or Will, but there’s something in his voice and in the way he touches her that makes that small, grasping part of her - the same part that is starving for happiness of any kind since she abandoned hers in an alien hell - think _perhaps…_

He carefully and gently turns her to face him. Her eyes are shut against the tears that flow freely from them but he’s warm and when his forehead rests against hers it is in precisely the way Will’s used to in the quiet, still moments between them in the caves.

“You are the last of my sacrifices,” he says as his hands slide into her hair. “You brought me home.”

She doesn’t bother denying it. Perhaps the others would if they were here, but even that she’s not certain of. It can’t be refuted that Hive wouldn’t be on Earth now if it weren’t for her.

“Radcliffe is intelligent and driven,” he says, “but he isn’t you.”

She opens her eyes in shock. “You want my help?”

His smile grows. “If you’ll give it.” He tucks her hair behind her ear. “But, if you won’t, my plans for you remain unchanged.”

Her gut had settled some while she let herself get lost in his touch and his words, but now it starts right back up again. “Plans?”

His eyes light up with some secret that makes her heart flutter in her chest. “You will be my first.”

She has no idea what that means and would rather not find out. Much as she doesn’t want to see what Hive might do to them, she really has to wonder what’s keeping Fitz and Mack; a timely interruption would be most welcome right about now.

“No,” she says, “I won’t.”

He drops his gaze to the gun between them and then looks to her with that fond, chastising expression Ward sometimes used to wear in their later days on the Bus.

Something cold and wet brushes her fingers. She shudders and drops the gun, but it never hits the ground. A tentacle carefully transfers it to Hive’s hand. She tries to back away but his other hand tightens in her hair while he examines the gun.

“Not as elegant as the splinter bomb,” he says and tosses it carelessly away. When he looks at her, he seems surprised to find her so utterly disgusted. “It bothers you to see me this way.”

It bothers her to see him _at all_ but he steals those words from her mouth with the thumb he trails down her cheek. He seems to consider for a moment before saying, “There are other ways to heal this body, if you’d rather I not wait?”

“You mean not wait around to _murder_ one of my friends?” she asks quickly, not to be denied her chance to speak a second time.

It only makes him smile. “An acceptable loss,” he says and, before she can find a suitable retort, he’s kissing her.

It’s Will’s kiss.

No matter how she tries to tell herself - between rushes of heated pleasure - that it’s _not_ , Will is _dead_ , he always finds a way to call her assertions into question with the next sweep of his tongue. Even his hands have gentled, turning almost reverent the way Will’s always were.

When he stops, when he allows her room to breathe, he keeps her in the circle of his arms and she holds herself still, trying to find her wayward common sense.

She can’t. Not when he’s warm and strong and steady, so close to being what she’s been aching for all these months. She can feel him staring just as she can feel the hollow at her stomach where there should be flesh. He’s waiting for her to react.

He only wants her happiness, he said. And so does she. What does it matter if, for a few moments, she finds some in a lie? It’s not as though she _truly_ believes. And, if whatever this is will save Fitz and Mack _…_

She curls the fingers of her already lifted hands into the front of his coat and tips her head back again even as she pulls him closer.

Her eyes are still shut from the first kiss so she doesn’t see the sharpness of his smile, but she feels it well enough. It’s not at all like Will - it better befits a Ward or a monster from the depths of space - and it should break whatever spell he’s got her under.

She only pulls him closer and lets him guide her to the bed.

 


	2. 3x19 Failed Experiments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So immediately after 3x19 - actually before it had even aired for me - over on tumblr I had a prompt from lillysbitchfest to write a "fix it" set in this 'verse. It only took me a week to manage one.

Alicia is holding Jemma against her will. She came to fetch her, ordered her from her room (cell), and dragged her to this van, where they are waiting to hear … something. (Jemma has no idea what, but the HYDRA agent in the driver’s seat is incredibly twitchy and keeps angling his head to look out at the sky.) So Jemma should not care that Alicia broke into agonized sobs half an hour ago. She shouldn’t have pulled the woman’s head into her lap and petted her hair and gently shushed her while she stained Jemma’s jeans with her tears.

“It’s all right,” she says for the hundredth time.

“I know,” Alicia says, sniffing wetly and steeling herself. It is the first time she’s responded to any of Jemma’s reassurances. “I’m happy to make the sacrifice.”

Jemma lets out an ugly snort and meets the driver’s eyes in the rearview. He is plainly thinking along much the same lines she is. Just because no one talks of compliance, doesn’t mean they aren’t.

“You _died_ ,” Jemma reminds her and does, honestly, feel bad for it. “There’s no shame in it hurting.”

Alicia smiles up at her, near to beaming through her tears. “You’ll understand soon.”

A chill rushes through Jemma and her fingers stiffen. She fists them at her sides while she looks out the tinted window. She knows now what Hive is planning. He intends on turning humans into Inhumans so that he may sway them all to his way of thinking and, unfortunately for Jemma, he is determined that she be the first convert once he perfects the process. Lovely.

A loud knock against the passenger side door startles them all and brings Alicia up, ready to defend Jemma.

“All clear,” another of the HYDRA agents says once the window is rolled down. “Boss wants ‘em both at the lab.”

As the engine turns over, Alicia turns to Jemma with a grin and catches her hand. “Maybe soon!” She’s so excited, so _eager_ for Jemma to become as mindless as she is. Daisy’s much the same, but somehow with her it’s worse. Alicia was Jemma’s sometimes patient, Daisy was her best friend, practically a sister. Seeing her want something so utterly wrong, act so much like herself and so _not_ at the same time, is like seeing her drawn and pale and clinging to life in that hyperbaric chamber. 

Jemma’s stomach churns all the way to the so-called lab - more of an old garage that has been repurposed for Radcliffe’s needs - and if it weren’t for Alicia pulling her, her numbness would keep her in the van when they arrive. Well, a lot of things would keep her in the van aside from that, such as a deep desire to not see any of the people waiting inside.

Radcliffe, who has grown quickly accustomed to the strange circumstances he’s found himself in, barely acknowledges their arrival. Hive smiles to see Jemma and there’s something wrong with his shirt but she’s quickly distracted by Daisy.

“You’re _hurt_ ,” she says, rushing from Alicia’s side to shoo Radcliffe away.

“I’m fine,” Daisy says - which is just patently false, Jemma can _see_ the hole, “bullet’s already out.” Yes, and it appears to have been done in the most shoddy way possible; Radcliffe is more butcher than physician.

“Who shot you?” Jemma directs the question to Daisy, but turns an accusatory gaze on Hive the moment it’s out.

“SHIELD,” he says, and doesn’t he look smug about it. “They also cost me the blood I needed.”

That sounds incredibly ominous - and, as Jemma’s just noticed the bright blue heart sitting nearby, she doesn’t imagine she wants to know.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Daisy says, slipping off the exam bed before Jemma can finish seeing to her injury. “I have Kree blood in my veins. Jemma injected me with it two years ago to save my life. Ward would remember.”

Oh, yes, that is _quite_ ominous. Jemma looks again to the heart as Hive gets that faraway look that says he’s remembering events that aren’t his to remember. Radcliffe catches her eye briefly before looking away. Perhaps he hasn’t adjusted as quickly as she thought. Something to keep in mind.

“You can take my blood,” Daisy says.

“No!” Jemma yells immediately. She catches Daisy’s arm, just close enough to the wound as to be purposefully painful. “You are not sacrificing yourself for his insane plans!”

Daisy’s smile is almost pitying. “Simmons, you don’t understand yet. I’m _happy_ to-”

Jemma shoves her away, cutting her off. She feels impotent, useless. She can talk until she’s blue in the face but Hive’s influence will prevent Daisy from seeing common sense.

And the bloody bastard is _smiling_ at her distress. It’s his typical smile, the one he wears almost constantly in her presence (and she refuses to examine the implications of _that_ reality) but it infuriates her under the circumstances.

“You can’t let her do this,” she says. “I examined dozens of her blood samples in the weeks following the injection. The GH-325 had been completely absorbed into her system, in order for you to even maybe get a decent sample at this stage, you would have to drain her completely.”

“Daisy understands the importance of this project,” he says serenely.

Jemma knows that behind her Daisy is smiling or nodding or something else that is _utterly absurd_ , but she doesn’t dare look. She blindly grabs for the bloody scalpel by Daisy’s bed - used, no doubt to gouge the bullet from her arm because Radcliffe is a _barbarian_ \- and marches straight for Hive, rage driving her forward like a strong wind.

She realizes now what she only glimpsed before: Hive’s been injured as well. His shirt is torn, exposing nearly his entire arm, and the skin there is pale and new, just like it was on his stomach the night they-

(That is another thing she refuses to think about.)

Amusement sparkles in his eyes; what has he to fear from a tiny blade? Not much, really, but when she jams it into his brand new shoulder, pain replaces his amusement.

(On that night she won’t think about, he encouraged her to explore the new skin of his stomach, to touch and tease the tender flesh. She knows _precisely_ how sensitive it is.)

She twists the scalpel before releasing it and dragging her nails down the exposed skin. She can’t hurt him, not truly, but she’ll do what she’s able. He catches her wrist before she reaches his elbow and gives a vicious tug, bringing her close enough to feel his body heat.

“You know the rules, Jemma,” he says softly, his voice a mix of silk and poison, “you break it, you have to fix it.” He leans closer, close enough his breath falls over her lips and she’s already imagining the warmth of them against hers.

But she’s also thinking of Daisy and the Kree blood and Radcliffe’s shoddy method and the blue heart sitting only a few feet away.

“I can do it,” she breathes into the scant space between them.

Hive freezes and, with her eyes half-shut and fixed on his lips, it’s only by the loosening of his hold on her wrist that she knows he’s waiting for her explanation.

She swallows and forces her eyes to his. For some reason, it’s the sight of them so close she could name every color in them that speeds her pulse. “I can get you the blood you need. From the heart.”

“I need blood from a living patient,” Radcliffe pipes up. “And plenty more than  _that_.”

“Maybe he does,” Jemma concedes, “but _I_ don’t.” She may have refused at every turn to be a part of this madness, but she’s seen Radcliffe’s notes and his theories. She’s seen his approach to the problem and while it might, under the right conditions, yield him humans made Inhuman, Jemma can do better. And she won’t have to kill Skye to do it.

Hive’s thumb is rubbing idly at the small bones in her wrist. It reminds her he could snap it with very little trouble but somehow the shiver it sends through her isn’t fearful in the least.

After long seconds he pulls his gaze from her to look over her head. “The Kree’s remains are in the church. Bring them.” He smiles at her. “I assume you will be able to do more with the rest of the body?”

She takes in a shaky breath. She’s really doing this.

To save Daisy, she reminds herself. It won’t matter what SHIELD does to save her from Hive’s control if she’s already gotten herself killed at his order.

“Yes,” she says, “that will be most helpful.”

Radcliffe scoffs, clearly disbelieving, but Hive only goes on smiling while the others file out, leaving them alone.

He brushes her hair behind her ear with his free hand. The scalpel is still jammed in his shoulder and she can see the pain it causes him when he moves. “Always with the last minute miracles,” he says in a voice that is somehow both Will and Ward at once. He doesn’t give her time to examine what she thinks of that. She only just sees the scalpel fall, pushed out from the inside, before he’s kissing her.

His mouth is warm and wet against hers and his tongue moves in precisely the right ways to make her lose herself in it. She doesn’t know if that’s necessary, if he needs her swept away in the moment for her passion to feed his healing, but he certainly seems to prefer it.

She truly didn’t do him much damage and so it’s only a few minutes (though still ample time for her to find herself seated on the edge of the bed Daisy was using, with his knee slotted between her thighs) before the kiss ends and he allows her to examine the newly healed flesh.

“Don’t,” he warns when her probing fingers curl in a little too far.

She drops her hand to her side and lets out a slow breath, fighting for control of her traitorous libido. Hive already has control of his; he’s eyeing the heart with an eager grin.

“Shall we begin?” he asks.

If she does this, even if she tries her best to stall him with testing and trials, eventually Radcliffe will figure her out well enough to continue without her and, with his devil-may-care attitude they could achieve mass terragenesis within the month. Which means Jemma will have to find other, non-scientific ways of stalling to keep as much of her methods to herself for as long as possible.

“Yes,” she says, curling her fingers through his belt loops and pulling him back between her legs. He blinks down at her and she feels a surge of supreme satisfaction at having surprised the great and powerful Inhuman monster. She tips her head back with a smile. “Let’s.”

His chest presses against hers and his hand slides into her hair, cradling her to him for a kiss that is much slower, much more intimate than any they’ve shared before. She worries briefly over what that might mean, but very shortly she isn’t worrying about anything at all save how to bring more of her skin in contact with his.

 


End file.
